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mounted police lay dead ten feet from his pit, he
said; and he had taken their rifles and ammu-
nition and thrown away his clumsy old muzzle-

'I am almost starving/ he said, €I am eating
the bark off the trees. I have dug into the
ground as far as my arm will reach., but can get
no water. But have no fear—I shall hold out
to the end,3

Excitement had become intense in the sur-
rounding countryside, as all day Saturday fresh
troops were arriving on the field from Regina,
Prince Albert, and Duck Lake. The whole
population of Assiniboia (now Saskatchewan)
seemed to have flocked there overnight.

My friend Dr« Stewart, who still practises at
Duck Lake, and who owns the last gun used by
Almighty Voice, was one of the two men who
rescued the dying body of the gallant Corporal
Hockin from the very edge of the deadly bluff.
Constable O'Kelly, the 'Fighting Irishman', dis-
covered the body with his field-glasses, and he
believed that he had seen it move. He called
for a volunteer to make a dash with him down the
hill and across the lowland to attempt a rescue.
Jumping into a buckboard. Dr. Stewart, the
volunteer, and Constable O3 Kelly tore down the
hill as fast as their horses could pull them.
They stopped right on the edge of the thicket^